Stay
by thatgirlyoucantrust
Summary: Michonne's POV - takes place during 6X10 after the couch-scene
1. Chapter 1

He's gorgeous.

I think to myself, as I watch as his chest rises and falls in his deep slumber. He's in the dead center of the king-size bed reminding me of what it was like to sleep with a toddler.

My toddler.

Andre.

I sigh and roll away from him, on to my stomach, simultaneously changing my thought pattern. I don't want to go there tonight. I glance around the room.

The shadows dancing across the walls. The windows open promoting a slight ineffectual breeze. I can't believe I'm still in his room.

Still in his bed.

I'm still covered in his scent, in his sex. The corners of mouth begin to twitch and a smile begins to form. Physically, I wipe the smile away with my hand, and bury my face into the pillow.

Oh, god. It smells like him too, like woods, gunpowder, earthiness, apples, and Ivory soap.

I'm weak.

It's these walls.

The walls are meant to protect what's in here from threats out there. But the threat is clearly in here with me.

The threat is BESIDE me.

Naked! Ring the alarm already.

I should kill him. In his sleep. I mean come on, I would do it humanely.

I'm kidding, I can't kill him because of Carl and Judith. No really Jude would probably be good, she wouldn't really remember him…right?

No, really, I couldn't kill him anyway.

Because he is gorgeous. And stupid. And lost. And cocky. And he's gloriously tan. And those blue eyes. And those calloused hands. And he's the guy that has a hellish day and remembers to still bring you spearmint mints.

 _So, you fuck him because he had breath mints, really 'Chonne. Bitch, if you do not get your entire life together._

Figure out what YOU want. Deanna's words keep haunting me.

 _What do you want, girl?_

I smile and roll over onto my side facing him on the bed again. I want some more dick in my life, is what I want.

He's sleeping so peacefully while I'm staring up at the ceiling because of a stupid man and his stupid mints and his stupid penis.

Why did I have sex with him? Because of the mints. Really? I should have saved the sex for the actual toothpaste. Mints should get a guy to second base. TOPS.

I'm so easy.

I chuckle quietly to myself, throwing a hand over my mouth to keep in the absurdity.

I'm fucking crazy. Clearly. Sex for spearmint. This is what I've been reduced to.

Oh. My. God. He's mumbling in his sleep. I glance over at him as he stirs.

Please stay sleep. I beg him silently as he rolls onto his side facing me, encroaching more onto my territory, which is so fucking like him. Always taking up my space. Always staking claim on everything like a fucking dog pissing on everything. Pissing on the house he wanted when we first arrived in Alexandria. Pissing on the room that would be his because it's closer to the staircase. Pissing on another man's wife that he had to have.

I'm a rebound. I'm the rebound to Jessie Fucking Anderson.

I'm pathetic.

No, he's pathetic. I'm a fucking goddess not a nun who needed an itch scratched tonight. I deserve good dick in my life. I work hard. I strategize. I provide. I protect. I go on runs. I should get dick.

Amazing dick. When I want it. How I want it.

Good dick.

On-demand dick, dammit!

Rick's dick.

I throw my hand over my mouth again, trying to capture my laughter. I'm being ridiculous but I can't help it. I don't know what any of this means. I need answers.

Okay, let me formulate a mental list of questions I need answered. Question number one: why did I have sex with him?

Answer: because it felt good, duh. Yes, it's been too long. Yes, it felt so right at the same time. But my heart has always resided in my vagina. That is until I had Andre and my heart began to beat and run around outside of my body. And then. Then, the day my heart was gone and I had to drive my katana through the skull of my own heart.

And yet...here I am, my heart seemingly self-regenerated.

I'm weak. And you can't protect and do what needs to be done when you're weak. Exhibit A: Jessie Fucking Anderson.

I should get up. I should at least not sleep here. I move to get up slowly, quietly. I'm almost sitting up on my elbow, about to throw the cover off my body when I feel him rouse again. I feel his warm hand on my hip and I instantly melt. I feel his other hand slide underneath me. I feel him dragging me back towards him. I let him. His arms enveloping me. I let him. His essence smothering me. His lips are at my neck.

"Stay." he whispers, huskily. Sleepily.

I fucking melt into a puddle of nothing against him. My body, especially this newly regenerated heart are not in sync with my mind. But this heart and my mind will have to talk later because right now my soul is completely content with falling asleep in this man's embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

He's being weird.

Or maybe I'm being weird.

No, it's definitely him being weird. He's standing in the door way to the bathroom. Just watching me with his stupid "I've seen you naked" smirk on his face.

"Are you done?" I ask him, finally breaking the tangible silence. I still haven't worked up the courage to meet his blazing stare. I'm overly focused on mixing baking soda, peppermint, and little water in a jar for homemade toothpaste since all I got last night was mints...and "sorry your toothpaste is at the bottom of the lake" dick.

Not that the d was a bad consolation or anything, I'm just sayin' I still don't have any toothpaste.

He leans against the door frame, scratching above his eyebrow with his thumb, a quizzical look replacing the filth in his eyes.

I sigh and add a little water to my toothpaste concoction. "Are you done _staring_ at me?"

He comes into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it softly behind him. He stalks towards me, like a cheetah in the jungle. I stop stirring. It gets hot all of a sudden. The thin silk robe I'm wearing feels sweltering. I feel the heat rush up from chest, spreading through to my face. I send a small thanks into the universe for my dark complexion masking my sudden flushness.

He snakes his arms around my waist, places a kiss on behind my neck. He presses himself against me. "I'm not done, we haven't even started today yet."

"I think we did enough last night," I mutter, removing myself from his embrace. I need to get a grip on myself and on this whole situation. It's too much.

He sighs, watching me again silently. I feel his gaze on me, scanning my face and down my body for clues of what's going on with me. I hope he finds a hint because I don't know what's going on with me either.

"Last night was..." he hesitates, I look up at him through the bathroom mirror. His face his neutral but his eyes are ablaze with all the scenes from our night together.

"Needed." I fill in for him. Last night was needed. I needed to be with him last night. Simple. "It was needed. It's been a while." I hear myself say it, in a more biting tone than I intended to.

It's nearly 7 a.m. My intentions were to creep out of the room even earlier than that. The walk of shame out of his bedroom would be the worst if I were caught by Daryl or Carol or worst yet Carl.

He smirks and the I-seen-you-naked look returns with a vengeance. "I was gonna go with amazing but-"

I turn around to face him, holding up a hand to stop him from continuing. I don't want to hear what he probably thinks he's _supposed_ to say about last night. "It was amazing..." I watch his facial expressions carefully, "But also needed. This is Maslow."

"Maslow…" he repeats after me, his southern drawl thick as ever.

I take a slow breath, calming my nerves, and simultaneously steel my heart. I clutch my robe closer to my chest.

I forgot this part about my after sex self. I'm always this self-conscious mush. I opened my legs to him and let him see, feel, and taste my most intimate places on my body, and yet, the morning after, I'm self-conscious.

Go figure.

I'm rummaging through the bathroom cabinet looking for a dental floss to no avail. I feel his eyes burning a hole into the back of my skull, but I don't really feel like doing all of this talking and conversation.

"Abraham Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs," I explain with a sigh, glancing over my shoulder at him. His pained, confused expression darkens his eyes.

"Michonne, what the hell are you talking about?" He asks, exasperated, rubbing his forehead with his thumb, brushing his unruly curls back from his face with his hand.

"It's a psychological theory that explains what happened between us. Last night…" I turn away from him and it all continues to rush out, verbal vomit style, but it's laced with truth; I think. Maybe.

"The theory states that once you have met your basic physiological needs like food, water, and air you can move up the pyramid to the things you need like safety and shelter. Alexandria made it so that we stopped being out there just scrapping for the basic needs. We have safety and comfort here which allows you to focus on other not so necessary needs. "

"Well, what's after safety needs…" he quizzes.

"Love…and belonging," I advise, matter-of-factly.

"Right, we can focus on US now," He interrupts.

This conversation really isn't going how I planned. I sigh, and amend, "Rick, I was trying to get at sex is really a physiological need that also has to be met. It's right up there with food, water, and shelter really..."

"No, last night wasn't sex," he shakes his head, "We're further along with Maslow than that."

I can just look at him. _Okay, Rick. That was a smooth response. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?_

"It wasn't just sex for me. It wasn't just THAT for you either," he probes, "Right?"

"If Jessie was still alive would you still be at this stage with me?" I ask quietly, finally getting it off my fucking chest. He sighs, sitting on the side of the bathtub, his blue eyes darkening. I watch him as he wrestles with his thoughts.

"The thing with her was definitely physiological need. She reminded me of my old life. And if she were still alive, we –she and I, would have never got to where I am with you right now. This is where I have been with you for a long time now. This is different"

Good answer.

I want to believe him , but I turn away from him, facing towards the sink. I begin to fiddle with the dental floss. "I'm just saying, it was just one night, this doesn't have to be a complicated thing. It can be what it was. Friends with benefits or whatever…"

"Oh, so YOU want to be friends?" he asks.

I gather up some courage and glance at him through the bathroom mirror. He's staring straight back at me, his mouth slightly agape.

I shrug in response.

I mean, that could work. I still get the dick on demand. None of these extra heavy feelings. None of these long drawn out conversations.

I steal a glance at him through the mirror again. He's resting his elbow on his knee, his head cradled in his hand, rubbing his temple with his index and middle finger.

Wondering what he's thinking, I alternate between staring into the sink and peaking at him in the mirror. When we make eye contact again, he begins to speak.

"You said you were with me," he states, eyes pleading, "Is that still the case?"

"Of course," my fucking heart answers before my brain has a chance to process.

Fuck.

And before I know it, he's standing behind me, faster than a walker creeping out of the shadows. My eyes snap back to the mirror. I watch him closely, he's moving my dreads from one shoulder to the other. I watch him lower his lips to my neck, kissing me there lightly. He glances up at the mirror locking eyes with me.

My breath immediately catches in my throat, my heart is racing. I hold on to the vanity to steady myself. Using his right hand, he guides my chin back up, encourage me to look at him through the mirror again.

I watch him as he places another kiss, and another kiss, up my neck until his lips are right next to my ear. I watch his lips part as he licks at my ear.

Oh, fuck.

I bite at my cheeks to prevent the involuntary smile from forming at my lips. His hot tongue and cool breath tickles me. He smirks at my reaction, his eyes are light and playful again.

"I wasn't _that_ man before all of this Michonne," his hands slide down my sides, his arms wrapping around my waist. He continues, holding me closer. "The kind of man that has friends with benefits. So if you're telling me that you need a break—that's fine. Or that you need time. That's fine. I'm just letting you know I'm ready when you are…"

I close my eyes because looking at him AND feeling him is too much for my senses right now. Instinctively, I lean back against him and he holds me tighter. I told him months ago I was finished taking breaks.

The locked door knob rattles and Rick steps back from me.

I'm saved the fucking bell.

"Sorry," Carl's muffled voice from the other side of the door. "Are you going to be much longer?"

Rick and I look at each other and I gesture for him to answer. But he gestures for me to answer.

"I'm almost done Carl," I call back to him.

"Have you seen Judith's Orajel? Is it in there?"

"I think it's on the coffee table."

Rick mouths to me, " _Kitchen_."

"No, I mean it's in the kitchen," I amend quickly.

"Oh, okay. Thanks Michonne," Carl responds, "Hey, dad?"

My heart skips a beat. Panicked, I glance up at Rick. I was preparing to lie and say he was downstairs. He throws me an apologetic look and unlocks the door, cracking it slightly to poke his head through. "Yeah?"

"Did you want me to go ahead and drop Judith to Olivia before I head to school?" Carl's asks tentatively, balancing a fussy Judith on his hip. "If you're...you know...busy."

Rick sighs, looking over his shoulder at me, again, apologetic. "No, I'll take her." He opens the door, steps out into the hall and takes Judith from Carl's arms. Glancing back at me, and stammers, "We'll finish discussing...you know...that stuff later..."

I can't tell if he's stating or asking, but I nod in response, closing the door back behind him as he follows Carl down the hall.


End file.
